


Just a Little of That Human Touch

by evansrogerskitten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Biker AU, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Smut, biker John, yes thats a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 06:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evansrogerskitten/pseuds/evansrogerskitten
Summary: A handsome stranger and a lonely woman share one night fueled by whiskeys and need.
Relationships: John Winchester/You, John x Reader - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Just a Little of That Human Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Fluff Bingo, Square filled: Biker AU and for Song Challenge Bingo, Square Filled: "Human Touch" by Bruce Springsteen

John had been on the worn two-line highway for four hours that summer morning. The sun grew hot as it rose with the day, and the layer of cotton between his skin and heavy black leather jacket clung to him with a layer of sweat and dust from the road. He had a few days until he had to be in El Paso to meet up with his crew so he took I-62 down from Lubbock, enjoying the ride through the national park and into the desert. 

The _**2 Miles to Loving, New Mexico**_ sign passed and John considered stopping to grab lunch when his bike lurched underneath him, her tune that of a sick beast rather than the smooth bird that had left Texas. 

John took the first exit, coasting into Loving. He idled through a 4-way stop, begging his bike to make it into the deserted Chevron gas station lot. The bike stalled and then quit, and John kicked out the kickstand, before pulling his helmet off. His salt and pepper hair was disheveled so he ran his hands over it in frustration, the hot air doing nothing to cool the sweaty strands. He looked up at the sound of a bell, an older man hobbling out of the station’s small cubicle. 

“Everything alright?” the man asked. He was dressed in dirty overalls, and wearing a beat up ball cap. John smiled kindly. The guy reminded him of Singer. 

“Nah, I think my battery is kickin’ it.” John climbed off the bike, setting his helmet on the seat. He chugged a bottle of water and tossed the plastic shell into the bin next to the nearby pump. “You got a parts shop here?” 

“Yah, just down the road.” The man pointed down the asphalt road that had seen better days. “But you oughta take it on down to Quinn’s shop.” 

John nodded, debating his options. He could leave the bike at the Chevron station and walk to the auto parts store in the blazing sun. Or he could venture down to this Quinn’s and see what he had to offer. Fixing the hog up in a shop would be a whole lot easier than in the gas station parking lot. 

John nodded his thanks, and climbed back on the bike. He slid his helmet back on and then with a silent prayer, he turned the key. Silently he begged the engine to turn over, and finally she grumbled to a hesitant start. 

“I know, girl. Only down the road.” With a salute to the man, John shifted into gear and headed to Quinn’s. 

The bell announced his arrival as he coasted down the driveway and into the shop bed. The bike shuddered to a dead stop, and with a matching heavy sigh John turned the key. “Damnit.” 

“Can I help you?” 

John pulled his helmet off, searching for the voice. A woman appeared from the shadows, an eyebrow ached as she watched him disembark. She was wearing blue patched coveralls, her grease covered hands working a yellow shop towel between them. Her hair was held back from her face by a red bandana, and John smiled at the smear of oil on her left earlobe. 

“Yeah, I’m having some trouble with my bike. I think it’s the battery. Heard Quinn might be able to help, if he’s around?” 

The woman looked him up and down, from his dusty covered boots to his two weeks too long dirty jeans, his black leather jacket unzipping slowly under thick fingers. Removing the jacket revealed multiple tattoos on his arms. He had a nice smile, and the obvious charm of a man that was used to talking his way into whatever or whoever he wanted. As he cracked his neck his wild wavy hair tipped to the side, making her want to step forward and nest her fingers in it, bite and bruise pink lips under a salt and pepper beard. He had to be at least ten years older than her, with miles upon miles of angst on his shoulders. Hazel eyes flashed amusement as she surveyed him. 

“I can help you,” she nodded. “Bring ‘er up here and we’ll take a look.” 

“Ain’t Quinn here?” John asked. The woman paused and then turned on her heel. 

“I’m Quinn.” 

“Oh,” John smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I thought....” 

“You thought only a man would run a bike shop, right?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Name’s Y/N but everyone’s been calling me Quinn since I could climb up a bike.” 

“Yeah?” John asked as he pushed the bike towards her. She cleared a space and John kicked the stop, the heavy bike between them. 

“Why Quinn?” John grinned. 

For the first time she smiled and John reach out for the handlebar to steady himself. She was beautiful. She tilted her head towards the back of the shop. Four classic Harleys were lined up, all in various stages of rebuild. 

“Harleys are kinda my thing.” She gently smoothed her hand along the bike’s handlebars. “Hey there sweetheart, let’s see what’s wrong.” 

After some investigation and some stubborn refusal on the bike’s part to actually start up again, the woman leaned back on her heels and then pushed up to lean against the toolbox. She tossed a shop towel to John. 

“It’s your battery, gonna need to get a new one for ya. Then we can switch her out.” 

“How long that gonna take?” John asked. 

“Few hours, depending on if we can get a battery in town.” 

John sighed. He might not make it to El Paso in time. “Alright.” 

They jumped into her old sea green Ford and headed into what would be considered downtown Loving. It was a small desert town with a few thousand residents, plenty of churches, and a brand new Dollar Store. John smiled at the simplisticity of it. Reminded him of Lawrence twenty years before. 

It took them six sweaty hours to get John’s bike back to road ready. Quinn knew tricks and shortcuts to tune the bike that John had never seen in his twenty years of riding. Finally the bike purred alive and both mechanics stepped back with proud smiles. 

The sun was setting as John looked out the shop doors. He sighed, knowing Harvelle and Singer were going to give him plenty of shit for being late. 

“There’s a motel in town,” Quinn suggested. “The Thunderbird. Jody’s good people, she’ll set you up with a room.” 

John nodded and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “How much I owe ya, sweetheart?” 

Quinn smirked. “Buy me a drink later and we’ll call it even.” 

John couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m holdin’ you to that.” 

With a nod he was off, his bike roaring away at full speed. Quinn sighed as she watched him go. 

“Oh I am in trouble.” 

****

After a shower John was starving. He found his way down the block to Benny’s Bar and Grill. It was like every small town sports bar he’d ever seen and immediately he felt at home. He tucked himself onto a bar stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a Jack and the dinner special. 

About two hours after John had entered the bar he looked up at a whistle from a guy sitting in the middle of the bar. The door to the bar opened and a woman walked inside. John’s eyes moved up her biker boots, tight jean-clad legs, and soft billowy white sweater. His jaw dropped a little when he recognized her pretty face, this time enhanced with mascara and a little bit of red lipstick. 

“Hey,” Quinn smiled as she walked over and slid onto the stool next to his. “See you found the bar.” 

“Yeah, great place.” John nodded before looking her up and down again. She blushed. “You clean up nice.” 

“Thanks Benny,” she said to the dark haired man who set a glass with dark liquor in front of her. 

“SoCo?” John asked. 

She shook her head. “Manhattan.” She rolled her eyes when John raised his brow. “I’ve been out of Loving before, you know.” She smiled down at the dark cocktail. “I had one once, when I was in the actual Manhattan. And Benny keeps sweet Vermouth in stock just for me.” 

“Well cheers,” John held out his glass. “To...new adventures.” 

She raised a brow and smirked, clinking her glass against his. “I’ll drink to that.” 

The dark liquors flowed with their conversation. Hours of stories and laughter followed by strict competition at the dart board. With time stories about travel turned to stories of lost loves and past mistakes, until they were sharing an intimacy only known to the brokenhearted. Quinn knew the night with John would be amazing, but it would come with an expiration date. Wanderers, especially hot biker wanderers, never stayed. 

_You and me we were the pretenders_  
_We let it all slip away_  
_In the end what you don't surrender_  
_Well the world just strips away_

  
John chuckled as the song began in the cheap overhead speakers. 

  
“What?” 

  
“Just my favorite song is all,” John shrugged, circling the ice in his glass. 

  
She listened for a few beats and then stood, taking his hand and dragging him to the small dance floor. “Dance with me then.” 

  
_I ain't lookin' for praise or pity_  
_I ain't comin' 'round searchin' for a crutch_  
_I just want someone to talk to_  
_And a little of that Human Touch_  
  
The murmur of the bar patrons faded as John and Y/N swayed to the music. He held her closer and sang the chorus into her ear, making her sigh and move even closer. It had been so long since someone had held her like this. 

The ballad’s beat picked up and John clumsily spun her, both of them laughing and flushed. People were surely watching them with their silly laughter as they moved together. Y/N sang under her breath as she learned the chorus. The song told their fate of a handsome stranger and a lonely woman sharing one night fueled by whiskeys and need. She looked up at him as their feet slowed, and John’s eyes dropped to her lips. She shook her head slightly and pulled away from him as she looked around, remembering that her dalliance would be the town’s gossip for weeks to come.   
  
John signaled the bartender for the bill and covered both of their tabs. With a sigh he smiled at her.   
  
“I’ll walk you to your car.”   
  
She nodded, her heart thumping in her chest. She wanted this charming man, this handsome biker, this older experienced stranger. She had to listen to Springsteen’s lyrics - she needed this too.   
  
They got out to the street and John motioned towards her truck. She took a step towards it and then stopped, taking in a deep breath of desert night air.   
  
“Can I walk you to your door?”   
  
John smiled, a chuckle rising up. He suddenly seemed a little nervous too as he offered her his hand. They walked down to the Thunderbird in silence, enjoying a little human touch as John’s thumb slid over the back of her hand.   
  
As soon as the yellow motel room door was shut behind them all bets were off. John grabbed her neck and gently pulled her forward, a deep kiss of bruising scruff and gasping breaths. Her shyness faded as she remembered the steps to this dance, and she tugged her jacket off and then his. Boots were quickly unlaced and jeans tugged down, until they tumbled naked onto the motel mattress together.   
  
She straddled his waist, leaning down to kiss him hungrily. His fingers gripped her ample hips, keeping her in place as he rutted up against her, the two of them prolonging an inevitable explosion. She giggled as he held her close and suddenly flipped her to her back. He kissed her neck, then her breastbone, tongue circling her nipples and then tracing her sides and hips. She wound her fingers into his hair, holding on as he settled between her legs. At John’s first lick through her folds she moaned and threw her head back, her thighs trembling. John chuckled against her, gradually working up in intensity and pace until she was begging him for more.   
  
“John, yes yes yes!”   
  
John smiled and then sucked on her clit, worrying it between his lips. With an easy slide and hard press of two fingers, the beautiful woman seized in place, nearly twisting off the bed as she came.   
  
“Mmmmm, hell yeah,” John grinned as he slunk back up the bed. She was gasping, still trembling slightly from the power of her climax. “Wanna see you come on my cock now, Quinn.”   
  
She brushed his hair back and smiled. “Y/N. With you - it’s Y/N.”   
  
There was no more talking after that. John hitched one of her thighs up around his waist and pulled her forward, both of them groaning out loud at the slick joining together. John’s cock was thick, filling her just right, and when he slid back and then in again, he found her G Spot right away.   
  
They fucked for hours that night, finding comfort in someone again. The first time, just melting into each other’s arms as they fell apart. The second time was longer, more intimate, taking their time with exploration. Sometime in the middle of the night they showered, and were interrupted by a loud pounding on the wall when a fellow motel guest was sick of their consecutive moans.   
  
Half asleep in the dark of the early morning, she roused and looked at John. 

“What’s your last name?” she asked. 

John chuckled, looking down at her. “You wanna know that now?” 

She shrugged and John smiled, his fingers brushing through her hair. “Winchester. John Winchester.” 

She turned her head, her chest rising steadily as she smiled at him. “Y/N L/N.” 

“You’ll always be Harley Quinn to me, sweetheart.” 

She rolled her eyes before giggling as he pulled her in close, kisses passed between them before sleep took over. 

The sun was rising when John woke, the bed next to him still warm but empty. She was lacing up her boots on the end of the bed, already fully dressed. 

“You going?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep. 

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I figured I should go now.”

“Why?” he asked. 

She shrugged, looking down at her shoes sadly for a moment. “So I don’t have to watch you drive away.” 

She got up from her perch, leaning down and kissing him deeply, a truly perfect thank you and goodbye. 

“If you ever come back through Loving, come see me again.” She smiled, pressing her hand to his cheek. She wanted him to stay, to never leave, to work on Harleys with her at the shop every day and make love to her every night. But she knew he was a wanderer, and wanderers never stayed. 

John kissed her once more, smiling as she gave him a little wave and then let herself out of the motel room. He watched the sun rise through the small slit in the window curtain, still half sitting up in bed, naked under the covers.

An hour later John was on the road, Loving in his rear view, El Paso ahead. The whole drive he thought about the girl with the pretty smile, grease under her nails and kisses that made him feel alive again. He’d needed that, he’d needed her. Needed just a little human touch. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments and kudos! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is property of evansrogerskitten. Characters aren’t mine, but this fanfiction is. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post.


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